


Silent Night, Ruby Light

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 14:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Even on Eos's darkest nights, the people don't forget the spirit of the holidays. In return, that same spirit chirps through the dark to pass on good luck and good dreams to the children, young and old, waiting in the dark. Carbuncle leaves no stone unturned, not even the biggest one.





	Silent Night, Ruby Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aithilin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/gifts).



> There were a number of ideas I wanted to go with for your Christmas present, but I thought that nothing could be fluffier than Carbuncle spreading Christmas cheer! I hope your favorite fluffy fox spirit visits you with good gifts this holiday, too! <3

“ _It will be colder tonight than years past_ ,” she warned, affixing the ruby cap snugly between Carbuncle’s ears. _“Now, more than ever, our children will need your warmth to last the long night.”_

Carbuncle chirped in complete confidence, shaking the cap to test the silver bell jingling off the end. It sounded like falling starlight, this deep within the night sky, but all the dreamers down on Eos would hear, was a whisper, like snowflakes through wind chimes. The wistful imagination of childhood, here, as well as gone, would catch the bell chime of a fairytale to take into their dreams.

She stroked Carbuncle’s big, white ears. “ _Tread lightly, and quickly, and leave no child forgotten on this darkest of eves.”_

Carbuncle chirped once more, flipped at the Lady’s feet to catch another tail full of dream dust, then descended down to slumbering Eos, darting through the blacker clouds than winters past, and leaping from dreamer to dreamer.

Eos may have been different now, but her traditions didn’t change. Her people continued to endure, remember, and keep the spirit of the winter stars when the old holidays came around. They might have lived under different flags, different darks, and bore different nightmares for different fears nowadays, but faith still guttered like a candle flame caught in a squall at the edges of uncertain dreams, wavering lights glowing in defiance of the dark.

Carbuncle followed the string of sputtering lights like lanterns through the dark, dropping into dreams with a flash of ruby light to keep the bad ones at bay.

Lestallum was easy to pass through unseen, even with the quantity of sentinels staying awake to watch the darkness for daemons. Hard to pass good dreams unto the wakeful, but Carbuncle could at least leave good luck charms for those that couldn’t sleep through the night.

For example, it was incredibly lucky that the hot chocolate stayed warm by the time Aranea found Prompto, huddled by one of the barrel fires in the square. She kicked his boot to make sure he was awake to accept the offering. He learned to stop waking up in a panic and pointing a gun at her head after the first time she slammed his face into a crate and planted a boot into his ribs for the rude awakening.

“Stay sharp, sunshine,” she barked as Prompto snuffled awake, hastily digging the sleep from his eyes with the heels of his palms. “It’s a holiday so, I won’t tattle on you this time. Here. My gift to you.”

Prompto blinked up at the chipped mug in her hand, eyes brightening as they caught up with the bittersweet scent swirling off the top. “Not about to refuse hot chocolate from a beautiful lady on a cold winter’s night,” he teased – he wasn’t about to refuse a hot drink from anyone, anytime, period, but Aranea thought the futility of his flirting was cute enough to smile at sometimes. Tonight was one of those times. It always made him feel warmer than the drink itself did.

He took a greedy sip, and widened his eyes when a punch of something alcoholic hit the back of his throat. He had the decency not to spit it out and risk a face full of fire coals for insulting her brewing skills, but not the tact to hide his horrified face fast enough from Aranea’s laughter.

“If you would have given me a second, I could have warned you,” she chuckled, warming her hands over the fire barrel with a complete lack of repentance for his plight. “It’s called Dragon’s Breath for a reason.”

“Phew!” he crowed, curling gloved fingers around the mug to steady the shock from his shaking hands. “Yup! That’ll keep me awake through the night. Or put me into the permanent sleep of death. Damn!”

Aranea patted a pouch on her thigh. “That’s why you chase it down with an elixir.”

“You don’t have to waste that on me,” Prompto chuckled.

“Then I guess you better tough out the whiskey and not give me a reason to use it, blondie.”

Her words were always barbed, like a fence around what she really felt, but Prompto had been around her long enough to tell when she was being kind. He huddled closer to the fire barrel and made room for Aranea to sit next to him on the crate to catch him should the Dragon’s Breath hot chocolate sizzle his brain enough to pass out.

Carbuncle put a little more luck into keeping Prompto upright, then kept trotting through the narrow alleys of Lestallum to pass more charms and better dreams onto the rest of the ragged group of survivors populating the city. There were mechanics to pass on dreams of summer days and grease stains, glaives to treat with thoughts of hearths and home, children to leave little gifts for them to find in the morning – striped candies on their pillows, small felt totems in Carbuncle’s own likeness for the littler kids, silver bells for the older ones to bring to their ears when the silence of the world was just too stifling.

Carbuncle weaved good dreams into the thick, plaid print of the blanket covering the Amicitia siblings, Iris with her arms crossed and head atop her brother’s, just dozing off to sleep herself after a long night of keeping watch for Gladio while he shifted through his nightmares. Carbuncle sprinkled in thoughts of ebony shields glinting in sunlight, of Moogle dolls and Cup Noodles, and for the first time in ten years, Iris Amicitia smiled in her sleep. And Gladio finally slept still, broad body slumped against his sister’s sturdy shoulders, and dreaming of victory over the darkness.

The battlements were the hardest to sneak through, milling about with keen-eyed soldiers guarding the walls from daemons. But if they saw Carbuncle, they only saw a smudge of gray light, easily a dull glare off metal under the floodlights.

Or seen through a cloud of dirt on foggy glasses.

Ignis rubbed the lenses on his sleeve and readjusted them to his face, struggling to fight the mist of sleep from drawing a sheet over his eyes. He had to stay vigilant. If any one of the guards at the gate so much as blinked for too long, danger could slip right through their defenses and destroy everything they’d worked so hard to salvage since the scourge took over their star.

“I can hear your stomach grumbling from town square, Specs. Indulge me and eat some stew.”

Ignis bristled at the intrusion to his silent vigil – and at the nickname. Nyx Ulric never could be bothered with observing the idea of personal space, or with abiding Iggy’s numerous requests not to call him by that name. It reminded him too much of Noctis… And maybe that’s why Nyx kept doing it. Maybe he just wanted him to remember – as if Ignis could ever forget.

Perhaps it was the almost tranquil silence of the night – or perhaps it was Carbuncle aiming some Ruby Light his way – that softened his irritation at Nyx’s perseverance in never leaving him alone. But he ended up accepting the Styrofoam bowl of stew with a significant absence of his usual revile.

“Another one of Libertus’s recipes?” he asked, sniffing the warm steam as if he could guess the chef.

Nyx said nothing, merely smiling as he sat down next to him with his own portion, legs dangling over the platform that barred Lestallum from the world beyond. Scourge fell like black snow across Lucis, distant red dots the eyes of daemons lurking below the roads. It was cold this far from the fires and generators at the core of the city, and Nyx was often prone to bringing him something hot to eat when he knew it was his watch. Ignis used to crave the solitude – used to resent Nyx – but for the past few years, he learned that he rather enjoyed the company. And that Nyx wasn’t quite as annoying once he got used to him.

“Or is this another one of your monstrosities?” Ignis tried asking again.

“Don’t even pretend like you don’t love my cooking.”

“Ah. So it is one of yours.”

Nyx shoved a spoon into his hand and gestured that he eat, already scarfing down his own. Ignis didn’t know how he didn’t burn his mouth on the hot contents, but then they both had a unique tolerance to burning. The scars from the Ring still crackled with heat after a hard fight, or a long nightmare; any time the blood boiled, anger and fear adamant buffers for the Ring’s wrath.

The kindred scars on Nyx’s face gave Ignis hope on the coldest, darkest nights without Noctis. If the two of them could survive the Ring’s wrath, keep going to see another holiday pass, another year gone by preserving Lucis just enough for their beloved King to return, then he _would_ return. Ignis just had to survive Nyx’s cooking long enough to see that day.

He tasted a spoonful, pausing before bringing it to his lips to allow the night air to cool it. He felt Nyx’s expectant, sideways smile on him, and rolled his eyes.

“It’s an improvement,” he said, once the warm, thick broth warmed his stomach.

“I think you mean perfect.”

“I know I mean _improvement._ ”

Carbuncle crept beneath the battlements as they bickered, leaving some magic behind to encourage a kinder warmth than the fire which had scarred them both. Lestallum slept soundly through the night after Carbuncle departed, leaving dreams and luck and tokens of good faith with the Lucians who awaited their one dream to come true.

Carbuncle brought all of those dreams to the last stop for the night. It was tricky, but walls, Crystal or otherwise, had never been a barrier for Carbuncle. Not on this most auspicious of nights, when dreams had more power than an arrogant Astral holding the best of Eos’s dreamers prisoner.

Carbuncle bounded through the void, bell tinkling through the vast emptiness.

Noctis heard it. Noctis always heard his oldest friend, always kept that phone turned on in his dreams. He smiled and caught Carbuncle in his arms, his favorite messenger delivering all the dreams of Eos’s sleepers to his heart.

“Thanks for not forgetting me,” he murmured, and he didn’t know if he was talking to Carbuncle, or all the friends waiting for him back in Lestallum.

Either way, he cherished this gift. And he would return it to them all, ten-fold. And with Carbuncle’s blessing, and the favor of the Lady in the Moon, he would live to cherish that gift alongside all of them. The dawn was coming soon, and the greatest gift Carbuncle would give him was promising Noctis would be there to see it.


End file.
